Feverish Vulcans
by geekyfreya18
Summary: Spock is sick, and of course won't take a rest day. It results in him collapsing and Kirk and McCoy are left to deal with a very noncompliant Vulcan.
1. Chapter 1

Spock looked pale, and not his usual light olive hue. His eyes were wide, glassy and flecked with broken blood vessels. He looked as though he were forcing his eyes open and every now and again he would shake his head and blink rapidly.

"Some fleas taking refuge in that do of yours Spock?" asked McCoy. He could tell something was up with the Vulcan, and thought a playful joke might coax it out of him. He was of course unsuccessful.

"Fleas, doctor? I think not," said Spock after clearing his throat. He straightened his shirt, and stood more rigid than before. "We only have sand fleas on planet Vulcan, due to the desert terrain. We are quite immune. I do not see how they could have made it onto the-"

"Alright! Sheesh, Spock. Give it a rest," said McCoy sounding exasperated. Satisfied by the extent of his logical answer he assumed the blasted Vulcan merely had a case of exhaustion. It was not out of the ordinary for Spock to go days without sleep.

Kirk chuckled from his Captain's chair and stole a glance at his first officer. With Spock's back to him, he would never had suspected anything to be wrong. Kirk slunk in his chair and watched the black screen in front of him as stars appeared to fly past him.

The bridge communicator sounded loudly, and Spock scrambled to cover his ears. He sighed loudly and massaged his temples. Kirk took no notice and answered the call.

"Bridge. Kirk here," he said gruffly.

"Engineering to-" said Scotty. Then Kirk heard the distinct thud of a body.

"Scotty?" asked Kirk.

"This is Mads of Gamma Hydra IV. And we are taking control of this starship," said a voice. He sounded anxious, as he should be. He was trying to hijack a starship run by 400 of starfleet's finest. Despite the niceties amongst the crew of the Enterprise, everyone on the ship were excellent fighters. No one would threaten the safety of the ship, nor its crew without paying dearly for it.

"Get me a private channel to security," Kirk hissed to Uhura.

Uhura's nails began clicking away, in the background.

"Captain, shall I head down there myself? I will take a security team," rasped Spock.

"Yes, very good, Mr. Spock," said Kirk absentmindedly before turning to face the commander. When he did, he saw the complexion of Spock and stuttered, "Per-perhaps you should wait for me, Mr. Spock."

Spock didn't argue and merely nodded. Kirk turned back to the communicator.

"Leave my crew undamaged, and we will cooperate. What is it you need sir?" asked Kirk.

"You will change course for Gamma Hydra, we need volunteers for our research study. One of my men is coming to the bridge now."

Suddenly something clicked in Kirk's mind. They had been to that planet before.

"Robert and Elaine Johnson," murmured Kirk.

There was silence on the other end of the communicator.

"We were on an exploration on another planet when the comet passed. Our lead researchers, Robert and Elaine, were looking for a cure to the radiation poisoning that caused the aging. Another comet is expected to pass this time next week, and we need more volunteers," Mads said evenly, and Kirk wondered if they knew they were the starship that answered the distress call last time.

Kirk covered the communicator and began hissing instructions into Uhura's earpiece, "Security team to engineering. Find out how they beamed aboard our ship at warp. Restrain them, and do not let our crew get caught in cross-fire."

At that moment, the bridge doors opened and a skinny, scared looking kid of about 18 shuffled in. He locked eyes with Kirk, and the captain hastily backed away from Uhura. The boy walked up to Sulu and pressed the barrel of a phaser into his back. Sulu drew his shoulders back, and turned to look at his attacker. The boy shakily moved the phaser to the back of Sulu's head, and Sulu immediately faced front.

"Mr. Sulu, change course to Gamma Hydra IV," said Kirk.

Sulu nodded,

"Okay, Mads, I'm coming down. Stay calm. We can talk about this."

Kirk and Spock hurried off the bridge and into the lift.

"Spock you alright?"

"Compared to what Captain?"

"Oh, I don't know Spock? A healthy Vulcan," whined Kirk as he bent down and slapped his knees.

"Why yes, Captain. I am quite alright. However, I must ask you the same question."

"Spock?"

"I surmised that the pitch in your voice keeps changing, Captain. Are you in a state of annoyance or are your vocal cords damaged?" asked Spock in earnest.

"SPOCK!"

Spock shrunk away from Kirk's yell, and clapped his hands over his ears.

Kirk opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the elevator dinged and six security officers filed into the elevator. Spock shifted to the other side of the lift and looked like an extremely uncomfortable sardine. Sweat gleamed on his face highlighting his upturned eyebrows. The eight men shifted nervously for the duration of the ride. When the doors finally opened the security officers momentarily forgot themselves as they pushed and shoved to exit first.

"Gentleman, please," said Kirk annoyed.

Spock merely swallowed, no logical comment to offer. Kirk furrowed his eyebrows and crept along the hallway. He heard indistinct conversation and paused at the door to engineering. He recognized one voice as Scotty. His voice was hoarse and there was an unmistakable tone of confusion to it.

"Concussed captain," whispered Spock. He had walked up behind him and Kirk could now hear a shake in Spock's voice now. He could also smell a hint of sweat mixed with Spock's normal scent of clean linen as he never wore cologne. He believed it was an unnecessary measure to entice the opposite sex, besides he only mated every 7 years anyway.

Kirk counted silently as he held up his fingers in correlation. On three he burst into the room, it was a cloud of phaser fire, and hand to hand fighting. Bodies were flipping, and before long, the three intruders in engineering were restrained.

Spock was helping Scotty to his feet when the communicator dinged.

"Captain, this is Mr. Sulu."

"Proceed," replied Kirk.

"We got him sir. The kid. Actually, Bones got him! That trusty hypo of his."

Kirk could picture Bones flipping the hypo in the air like a baton, and holstering it like a phaser. Kirk smirked and began examining his intruders which were unconscious and littering the transporter pad.

Meanwhile, Spock was leaning against the transporter controls looking desperately around the room. Only Scotty noticed this, and discreetly walked over to Mr. Spock, placing a supportive hand on the small of his back. Spock jerked at the touch and saw that it was Scotty and nodded appreciatively. He had never looked more vulnerable. Except for maybe when he went rigid and tipped over like a teakettle into Scotty's arms. When Kirk turned around, he saw a very limp Spock being held up by Mr. Scott

"What happened?!" exclaimed Kirk. "Was he injured?"

"No, sir. He was lookin quite peaky cap'n. Then he just keeled over," explained Scotty. He was starting to struggle under Spock's weight. Scotty's eyes looked unfocused and he acted as if it were painful to look up, so he merely picked a tile on the floor and gazed at it, grounding himself.

"Kirk to bridge."

"Bridge, Sulu here captain."

"Commander Spock has collapsed, and he needs immediate medical attention."

"Okay, Jim, I'm on my way and I'll be there in..," said Mccoy, and his voice trailed off as he walked towards the elevator.

"Kirk out," he sighed.

Scotty and Kirk lowered Spock gingerly to the ground, worried his frail frame would shatter. Upon impact, Spock's eyes cracked open, they looked curiously around the room. Kirk dropped to his knees beside Spock, and watched his pulse flutter slowly in his neck. That was unusual, his pulse never dropped below 200. Spock's feverish gaze finally settled on Kirk, and he seemed to remember where he was. One eyebrow crept up his forehead, "Captain?" he croaked.

"Yeah, Spock. You fainted. You okay?"

"Okay is a human emotion. I am however, not completely physically fit, for duty, sir."

Kirk's eyes widened. Spock would never admit he was sick, he must be very ill to offer up vulnerable information like that. The doors swished open and McCoy strode in with Nurse Chapel and a stretcher.

Spock heard the screeching wheels of the stretcher, and immediately sat up.

"Whoa, whoa, easy ya crazy hobgoblin! At least let me examine you," cried McCoy.

"A stretcher is not necessary, doctor. I will merely return to my quarters to meditate. I will be well enough to report to my station tomorrow, sir," said Spock as he attempted to stand. Kirk pressed his shoulder down firmly so he would remain sitting. Spock shot him a look, and Kirk patted his arm affectionately.

"You don't get to decide, Spock. I do," grumbled McCoy. He waved a whirring instrument over Spock's torso. "You have a fever, a slow pulse, and high blood pressure. All declining vital signs for a Vulcan. How long has this been going on, Spock?"

"Since late last night, doctor," answered Spock. He had his head resting on one hand now. Whatever was ailing him, it was draining him and fast.

"What are your symptoms?" asked McCoy as he gently shook Spock's shoulders. He didn't react.

"Nausea, headache, fatigue, and, and, fatigue."

"Okay Spock, let's get you up to sickbay," coaxed Kirk as he kneaded Spock's bony shoulders. Spock didn't argue. He tipped back into Kirk, and let out a sigh. "Oh, okay, you must really be exhausted eh, commander?"

Spock didn't answer, his head lolled over Kirk's shoulder.

"Spock? Spock?" urged Kirk. "Bones?"

McCoy was already moving his instrument over Spock again. "He's unconscious, but he's stable. We must get him to sickbay!"

"What's wrong with him?" pressed Kirk.

"I don't know."

Bones and Kirk lifted Spock up and dropped him unceremoniously on the stretcher. They needed to move, and move quickly.

When they arrived at sickbay, Spock was still out. He was mumbling feverishly and his head kept lolling from side to side. He was shivering violently.

"Spock? Spock, can you hear me?" asked Bones.

His only response was hissing through his teeth as another chill racked his body. Kirk peered over McCoy's shoulder at his first officer. He stared through him, he couldn't believe the Vulcan was unconscious in a bio-bed right now.

"Jim, please go back to the bridge. I'll let you know what's going on, as soon as I do."

Kirk nodded hesitantly, and began zombie walking towards the door. When he began to dawdle McCoy steered him out and sighed in relief when the door swished closed at last.


	2. Chapter 2

Hi guys, thanks for reading the first chapter! I should be posting a new chapter every Sunday night from now on! I'll try to update as frequently as possible, but with school and work my time is limited! Hope you enjoy this next chapter! I'm open to any suggestions you guys have, and will try to respond to all the reviews and comments! Live Long and Prosper!

Kirk drummed his fingers distractedly on the panel on his chair as they sat in a steady orbit of Gamma Hydra IV. They were waiting for permission to beam down the intruders. He didn't even notice Sulu staring at him. His mouth was moving, Kirk's own mouth gaped open stupidly. He furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. What was he saying? It all sounded gurgled, like he was underwater.

"Captain, we are on red alert," repeated Sulu patiently.

"What?" asked Kirk dumbly.

"Red alert Captain? On what grounds?" Checkov pressed.

Kirk looked around at the red flashing lights casting hazy shadows around him. He squinted when one hit him directly in the eye. He quickly switched off the alert, he must have been leaning on it. He hoped he hadn't worried the crew much.

"Sorry," muttered Kirk as he rubbed his neck.

"Captain? Would you prefer to return to your quarters? Or perhaps Sickbay?" asked Sulu.

Kirk turned to him expectedly half expecting Spock to be standing there. But he wasn't and his eyes fell to the floor again. He shook his head.

"No, that's alright," Kirk replied.

Kirk was grateful that Sulu hadn't said what every crewman on the bridge was thinking…that he needed someone to take his place. He knew that it was true, but instead he chewed his fingernails and watched the stars fly past him for a time. He thought of his first officer, lying drenched in his own sweat, with gritted teeth, and sucking breath. Kirk winced. He almost rose from his chair, but thought of McCoy, working tirelessly, and sat back down.

McCoy waved a whirring instrument over Spock or the seventh time that hour. Spock in his unconscious stated flickered an eyebrow, as if he felt the instrument. McCoy frowned at the readings. They were steadlily declining. Spock was already dehydrated and hallucinating. McCoy was pushing fluids and fever reducers to no avail. Spock had awoken only once, and despite McCoy having promised Jim he would alert him as soon as the Vulcan woke, he felt compelled to keep the episode from him. Spock had thrashed in his sleep for nearly a half hour, then he bolted upright, tore the IV from his arm spurting green blood all over himself, and started shrieking about how he had been rejected by Starfleet Academy. McCoy had alerted security, and stepped behind the wall just out of view. He didn't want to be in the way of an angry, out of sorts Vulcan. He would be ripped to shreds. Then he heard moaning, a couple shivers, and then sniffles. Spock was crying.

"I can't stay here," he choked out through a couple sobs. McCoy could only assume he meant the planet Vulcan. Spock had wanted to leave for ages, Starfleet was just the perfect excuse. Anyone could understand that. He felt isolated. He was the one thing that didn't belong.

Then Spock gasped and McCoy thought he was found out. He looked down at his watch. Where was the security team? He shut his eyes, trying not to breathe should Spock's Vulcan ears detect it. Spock sighed and McCoy slowly released the breath he was holding.

Spock whispered, "But father will be so disappointed." McCoy's heart clenched. All Spock wanted was to be like his father, but his isolation drove him to leave. Then there was a dull thud, and the clattering of instruments. McCoy crept around the corner and stole a glance at the biobeds. Spock was sprawled out on the floor, unconscious…again. His arms were above his head, which lolled to one side and rested on his inner bicep. His knuckles were scraped from having slapped the floor. McCoy approached him on his toes, trying not to wake him. He dropped to his knees and hastily administered a sedative and immediately stepped back waiting for it to take effect. The doctor waved the instrument over Spock's lean torso again. No concussion, but his fever was 102.3 and rising. His blood pressure was normal, and his pulse was a little high, even for a Vulcan. He decided the episode caused a spike in his pulse. But a high pulse was better than no pulse at all. But the fever…that would be what killed him. His brain couldn't sustain that heat for much longer. Hurriedly he pressed gauze to where the IV was roughly plucked from Spock's forearm. He taped it tight, and nodded. It would have to do. He looked at Spock's face one last time, he looked relaxed despite the fact that he was burning from the inside out. Spock's lips were turning pale, and his complexion grew whiter. His face looked like it had been dunked in hot wax, and left to dry. He was positively opaque, and that worried McCoy. He finally tore his eyes from the ill commander and crossed into another room with a temperature chamber inside. He looked at the panel, and booted it up. It immediately became frosted over with snowflakes. It would be ready for Spock in just 5 minutes. He hoped he would last that long. Suddenly, the ship jolted and McCoy flew forward into the chamber door. His head knocked against the panel, hard and he fell to the ground, dazed. He looked up, saw a blur of red, and wondered if he was bleeding, and then he passed out.

Back on the bridge, Kirk was shouting orders and for the first time in the past few hours, he forgot about Spock. The Enterprise was hit by a missile from Gamma Hydra IV. At first everyone thought it was phaser fire, so Kirk ordered the shields up after the first hit, but the ship still lurched mildly. The missiles has enough force to penetrate the Enterprise shields. Checkov was preparing to fire back when Kirk held up his hand.

"Captain?" inquired Checkov.

"Don't fire back."

"But sir…"

"You heard me mister!" said Kirk harshly.

Checkov turned back to his control panel. The ship rocked as it was hit for the third time. Everyone sat still on the bridge and lurched as it was hit again.

"Mr. Sulu Warp 4, get us out of here," said Kirk finally.

"But sir, the prisoners…" indicated Sulu.

"I don't care! We will drop them off at the next Star Base."

Sulu nodded and punched it. They shot out of orbit, and away from the cloud of missile fire behind them.

Kirk was itching to get out of that galaxy, he didn't care if it meant having some prisoners aboard. He needed to file his incident reports with Starfleet, and get to the next Star Base. His crew was shook up, and exhausted. They needed rest, a shore leave of no less than three days would be sufficient. And they were still a week away from their next stop.

"Lay in a course, for Star Base 1831, Mr. Sulu."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Kirk slumped in his chair, willing himself to relax. He had done good. His crew was okay, and out of danger. Then thoughts of Spock crept into his mind and he pressed the intercom button to Sickbay.

"Bridge to Sickbay," he said.

The intercom hummed, but no message came through.

"McCoy?" asked Jim hesitantly. He was sure that McCoy was just righting some equipment that fell over and would answer him momentarily. He could imagine the grouchy doctor exclaiming, "Jim, what are you doing up there? I can't work when you are doing loop de loops with a starship!"

One minute passed, then another. Sulu and Uhura turned in their chairs, anxiously awaiting a response. Jim looked towards Spock's empty chair and punched the intercom again.

"Doctor?" asked Jim, louder this time.

The ominous hum answered him again. Kirk's fingers flitted over the communicator and intercoms. He hoped that the missiles didn't short circuit anything on the ship, not when they had so far to go.

Just as Kirk was about to ask Scotty to check the communicators, his communicator chirped and a voice rang through the intercom. It was one of the security guards.

"Bridge?" said the security guard.

It was Waterson.

"Waterson, everything okay down there?"

"Not in the slightest sir."

"Well what's the problem, crewman?" inquired Kirk. His patience was wearing thin.

"Dr. McCoy, is unconscious, and so is Mr. Spock."

"What happened to McCoy?"

"Not sure, sir."

"Where is nurse Chapel?" asked Kirk.

"On break I think."

"Get her down-"

"Already paged her sir."

"Good, good." He wanted to hear about Spock, but if he was unconscious, then that was nothing new.

"Also, sir?"

"What?" asked Kirk.

"I'm no doctor, but Mr. Spock is burning up. Like really burning up."


	3. Chapter 3

Hi, I definitely owed you guys two chapters for not updating in a while! So here is another one! Hope you like it! Like I said before, I will try to update every Sunday night, or as often as possible! LLAP

"Doctor?" prodded Waterson. He tapped the Doctor's collarbone sharply.

McCoy groaned, and blinked rapidly. A red blur came into focus, it was a security guard. So he wasn't bleeding.

"You okay doctor?"

McCoy tried to push himself to his elbows. Then his vision went fuzzy, and Waterson was a red blur again. He tried to lower himself down again, but fell hard after a couple seconds, completely spent. Luckily Waterson, caught him and gently laid down his injured head. What was he going to do?

Meanwhile nurse Chapel strode down the hallway towards Sickbay, ignoring the looks some crewman shot at her. Her hair was all astray, and her uniform was wrinkled, she had been sleeping when she was paged. She halted and peeked in the window to Sickbay. She saw Waterson kneeling between an unconscious McCoy and Spock. She had never seen her mentor look so peaceful. His eyes her always hard and lined with concentration. Now his face was smooth, and relaxed. He never looked at ease while he was working. I guess that comes with having a job with so much liability. It doesn't help that foreign illness found their way onto the Enterprise all the time. Good experience, but stressful. It showed in McCoy's face. He was 36, but he had the lined face of a 50 year old. Chapel strode in, and Waterson looked up, and relief washed over him.

"Oh thank god, I don't know what's wrong with either of them. McCoy came around for a few seconds then passed back out."

Chapel nodded at him, and without a word she opened a padlock on the inside of the door, and hit the Q button. The lights dimmed to an orange hue, the doors, locked, and bars sprung up on the windows. Waterson shot up, and stared wide-eyed at Chapel in disbelief.

"What are you doing?" he cried.

"Quarantine. We don't know if what Spock had was contagious."

"Well, if that's the case then Kirk, Scotty, or anyone he came into contact with could have it too!'

"Right," agreed Chapel. "Hopefully whatever it is, it isn't up for spreading the love."

Waterson, turned a sickly green color. Clearly, he wanted nothing Mr. Spock had to share.

Suddenly, McCoy stirred. Chapel dropped to his knees next to him. McCoy murmured something, his low voice drawled incoherently.

"What?" asked Chapel as she bent closer to his face.

"Dizzier then a vertigo patient on a tilt-a-whirl," he mumbled, and blinked a few times trying to clear his vision.

Chapel smiled, he was okay. She produced a whirring scanner from her shoulder bag and waved it over McCoy's head. He winced at the noise.

"Sorry," she said.

"It's okay," he grunted. He turned over on his side, away from them.

"You have a pretty severe concussion, doctor."

"You're telling me. It feels like someone inflated a balloon inside my head," he groaned. Chapel sucked in a breath sharply. "No bleed right?"

"No bleed," she said. "What happened?"

"Was walking to the temp chamber when the ship rocked."

McCoy pushed himself to a sitting position, then doubled over in pain.

"Easy doctor," cautioned Chapel.

"No, no. Mr. Spock. He needs to get in that chamber, ASAP. His fever is too high."

Nurse Chapel looked into McCoy's eyes, they were glassed over, but he was serious.

"Fever reducers?"

"Didn't help."

"Okay, let's get him into the chamber," she agreed.

McCoy started to push himself up, then gritted his teeth.

"Stay," warned Chapel.

McCoy didn't argue. In fact he laid flat, willing the bile in his stomach to stay settled.

Waterson helped Chapel grab Spock by his arms and legs and they shuffled awkwardly to the other side of the chamber. Mr. Spock was a lean fellow, as were most Vulcans, but he weighed far more than anyone anticipated. He was solid muscle. When they reached the chamber, they realized that the glass was shattered on the control panel. Chapel dropped Spock's ankles, and pounded at the buttons, until she sliced her finger on the glass. She pulled it towards her, hissing.

"What do we do?" asked a very nervous Waterson. He was holding a very limp Spock up; one hand wrapped around his torso and the other gently underneath his chin.

"We do this the old fashioned way," called McCoy from the other room.

"Cold water immersion," said Chapel.

McCoy nodded.

Waterson was rummaging through a supply closet for an old rubber bathtub.

"Did you find it?" hollered McCoy. He was sitting on a biobed next to Spock's with an ice pack pressed firmly above his left eye.

"More like it found me. It fell from the back of the closet right on me!"

McCoy ignored him, and dragged it next to Spock's biobed, and dragged a hose over to it and began to fill the tub.

"I need you to run down to the mess hall, and get as much ice as you can carry back up here, okay?" said McCoy.

"Okay," said Waterson.

Chapel lifted the quarantine, and Waterson took off down the hall at a dead sprint.

McCoy reached into his pocket and drew out another hypo of fever reducers, and promptly injected them into Spock. He didn't even wince. Shadows had grown underneath his eyes, and he was as pale as ever. McCoy could swear he could see a heat wave hovering over Spock's forehead.

Suddenly, Kirk burst into Sickbay. The moment Kirk saw Spock, lying there pale as death, unmoving, and covered in a spray of his own blood, his knees buckled a little. Kirk held out a hand to steady himself.

"Is he alright?" he asked.

"High fever. We are trying to get it down," answered Chapel.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Kirk.

"Not sure yet, Jim. But it doesn't matter if we don't get his fever down…" McCoy trailed off.

Kirk turned to McCoy. "I thought you were unconscious," he asked trying to hide his worry.

"Oh well sorry I'm not sleeping on the job, like the crazy hobgoblin here," grumbled McCoy trying to lighten the mood. It didn't.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, before nurse Chapel noticed that the tub was overflowing. Kirk and McCoy heard the squeak of the faucet turning off, but their eyes never left Spock. Spock would hate it, if he knew they were all just sitting around watching him sleep. But when you are in this state, you don't get privacy if you want to live.

Waterson returned with the ice and dumped it into the bath, while Kirk and Chapel lifted Spock into the tub, when they lowered him in, the displacement caused water to slop over the sides. Spock's pale complexion immediately flushed as soon as his skin touched the icy water. He shivered, but remained unconscious. He started to slip, before Kirk grabbed him underneath the arms, preventing Mr. Spock from drowning himself. His head leaned on the Kirk's arm, soaking his uniform. Kirk didn't care. He looked down at Spock fearfully.

"I doubt he is going to bite your arm," McCoy laughed. "They are fine fighters, Vulcans, but not savages."

Kirk laughed nervously, but didn't take him eyes off his arm, or Spock. Every few minutes nurse Chapel would stir the water with a long rod. After the seconds time Kirk looked at her puzzled.

"It keeps the water colder. If the water sits still, his body heat will heat up the water around him.

Kirk nodded.

After ten minutes, McCoy cleared his throat. "Shouldn't you be on the bridge?"

Kirk shrugged. "Everything is under control up there. Our course is set for Star Base 1831. We should be there in a week."

McCoy nodded and waved his scanner over Spock's forehead, and smiled. "100.7. It's going down."

"What happens when we take him out of the water?" asked Waterson.

"Hopefully it stays down," answered McCoy.

No one else wanted to play, "what if?" after that so the room fell silent and the only noise was the soft slosh of water, and the clacking of ice cubes as Chapel stirred the tub again.


	4. Chapter 4

"You know, Spock wouldn't approve of you turning command over to Checkov," said McCoy, as he grimaced at the immersion tub.

After immersion for nearly half an hour, the water was stained green from the blood on Spock's shirt. The tub looked more like a chemical bath, and it was putting Waterson off, who had taken to pacing the short distance of the bio beds to the door, but he never left. Even with Kirk there, he insisted he would stay, at least until Mr. Spock was more stable.

"A Starfleet captain may only relinquish command when he is unfit for duty, personal errands do not fall under this category," said Kirk in his best Spock voice.

Waterson snickered, and when Kirk caught his eye, he started pacing nervously. McCoy watched him amused for a moment, then shot Jim a disapproving look. Kirk shrugged.

"Right, Jim. So what excuse are you going to tell Spock as to why you left the bridge?" inquired McCoy.

"Maybe, you could tell him that I was injured during the missile attack," said Jim and his voice rose in pitch like he knew Bones would say no.

"No way, Jim! That hobgoblin sees right through me," scolded McCoy.

Kirk sighed, and shifted his arms around Spock's torso, they were getting numb and tingly again. "Oh come on, Bones," pleaded Kirk.

"Keep your voice down, Jim. He probably already knows about your plans to lie to him," hissed McCoy.

"You said it yourself doctor, he's out like a light," said Kirk, and he bent to look at Spock. His jaw was slack, and his breathing steady.

"His eyes may be shut, but his Vulcan ears are always open," said McCoy nervously.

Suddenly, Spock's nose twitched, and everyone's breath caught in their throats. Waterson stopped his pacing and McCoy waved his scanner over Spock's head again.

"99 degrees. That's low grade. He should be coming out of it soon enough," said McCoy, breaking the silence.

Spock's head shifted, and Waterson could swear he saw a slit of one of Spock's dark eyes, if only for a second. He gasped. Kirk looked up at Waterson who was pointing a shaking finger at the science officer. He nearly dropped Spock in the water.

"What is it? Is he waking up?" asked Kirk.

Spock made a hacking noise at the back of his throat and turned his head away from Kirk's arm, and slept on. Kirk noticed how his arm felt strangely empty without the weight of Spock's head there. He frowned, and bent low next to Spock's ear.

"Spock, it's Kirk, wake up. Come on wake up," he whispered.

And Spock did. His eyes flew open and he reached behind him trying to nerve pinch Kirk. He missed, and grabbed him around the throat, all the while thrashing and spilling water all over the floor. Kirk held up his hand indicating he could handle it. Everyone watched with wide eyes, helpless.

"Spock, it's me. It's Kirk. It's okay."

Spock settled and loosened his grip on Kirk, and that was when McCoy swept in with a hypo, and the calm was short lived. Spock thought he was being attacked and resumed his vicious grip on Kirk's neck again. He drove his elbow into Kirk's jaw several times, emitting a few involuntary yelps from the captain. Spock kicked out a lanky leg at McCoy, who landed on his back underneath a biobed, gasping, eyes unfocused. Chapel backed up against the wall, she knew better than to try to handle the situation on her own. She punched the security alert button, hoping they would arrive before Kirk was strangled to death.

Spock dunked Kirk's head in the water, holding them there, probably with the intent of staying there till all the bubbles were gone. Kirk's arms pressed against the tub trying to push himself out of the water, but he only smacked his chin and bit down on his tongue. Within seconds the water turned a murky yellow, churning up's Spock's green blood, and Kirk's red blood to make some horrible metallic concoction. Kirk could feel himself getting dizzy, and his head began to pound. When he finally gave in to suck in a breath of icy water, the grip on his throat slackened, and he was yanked by his uniform out of the water. He lay coughing and spitting out the tainted water, his head spun, and he shook from the cold. When he finally oriented himself, he realized he was laying on top of Waterson, who was rubbing Kirk's chest. Kirk rolled off the security guard onto his elbows, and watched blood drip from his mouth onto his open palms. Kirk heard a gurgling, then realizing it was Waterson talking. He shook his head.

"What?" asked Kirk.

"Are you all right Captain?" asked Waterson who had his hand on Kirk's back, slapping him between the shoulder blades, forcing more water out of Kirk's lungs.

"Fine. Just help Spock," he whispered weakly, and slid off his elbows and flopped onto his stomach, exhausted and shaking slightly.

Waterson scooped Spock up and laid him gently on a bio bed. McCoy waved his instrument over Spock's head.

"Captain, roll onto your back, please," said McCoy absentmindedly.

"Just give me a minute, Bones," whined Kirk, his hands wrapped around his own neck. He felt like if he let go, blood might come spurting out or his vertebra would crumble. Everything felt fragile.

"Nope, you need to breathe, and laying on your chest like that isn't helping."

Kirk hesitated. He didn't want anyone to see the bruises imprinted on his neck from Spock's fingers. McCoy had lost his patience, and put his knees up against Kirk's back and gently log rolled him towards him, onto his lap. Kirk continued to look at the wall, refusing to meet McCoy's eye. McCoy ignored this and watched blood trickle from Jim's mouth down over his chin and pool in the divet of his neck. He sighed and began dabbing the blood with fresh gauze. Kirk cleared his throat, and whimpered. His vocal cords stung with every inhale, and all because of his first officer. He knew what Spock was capable of, but he never thought he would turn on him. A tear leaked out of his eye.

"Jim," said McCoy. His voice was full of pity, and concern. Kirk came undone. He shook harder and several silent tears fell. "Spock will be fine. He will. It's okay." His Georgian accent came out, normally that twang was enough to comfort the Captain, but not today. He had never seen Jim this upset over anyone.

"It's not that," whispered Kirk.

Before McCoy could ask he removed Kirk's shaking hands from his neck. There were dime sized bruises trailing from his ear down to his collarbone. They lined his throat like he had been strangled by an octopus. They were from the pads of Spock's fingers. They were dark and speckled and raised.

"He didn't mean it, Jim. He's really sick, of course he didn't mean it," and for a second McCoy wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Jim or himself.

Kirk hoisted himself up onto his elbows, and sat back on his heels while he wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt. When he got to his feet, he stood tall and puffed out his chest, like the proud Starfleet captain that he was. He didn't feel like it then, with rosy cheeks, and watery eyes, but he was determined to fake it till he made it.

McCoy grabbed him an ice pack, and Jim took it, smiling halfheartedly before he turned to leave. He caught himself in the doorframe.

"Bones.." he began.

"I'll update you as soon as he wakes."

Kirk nodded and set off down the hall.

The elevator chimed as it stopped on deck 3. Jim stepped inside and went to hit the button for the bridge, but found his shaking finger hovering over the button, but he couldn't bring himself to push it. He wasn't ready to go back to the bridge. He leaned heavily on the wall, and lazily punched the button for Deck 5.

Kirk listened to the calming whirs as the elevator rose, but when the doors swished open he froze. He poked his head out into the hall. It was empty. He scurried as quickly as he could down the hall to his quarters. Just as his door opened, he heard chattering echoing from down the hall. He slipped inside and slid along the wall out of view, willing the doors to close soon, so no one could catch the door and ask him something. Someone always had some friendly gossip for the captain, or a delivery, or quick question, or status update. He was always willing to listen and socialize off the clock with anyone, but today he wanted to see no one, as he hoped no one would see him. He felt like a teenager with their first zit. But hiding wasn't an option. Today, he had to suck it up, pull himself together and return to the bridge. He opened his closet door and picked out a black turtle necked uniform that was usually reserved for his underclothes for when he was part of the landing party. He pulled it over his head, and smiled. It covered most of the bruises. He rinsed his face, and mouth which still tasted of blood. Then Kirk set off for the bridge again, having to talk himself into going straight to the bridge, not passing go, not collecting $200, and certainly not making a pit stop at sickbay.


	5. Chapter 5

"Stats are all normal, but his white blood cell count is elevated," McCoy frowned.

"Like he is fighting an infection?" asked nurse Chapel.

"Precisely," answered McCoy who continued to stare at the scanner as if he looked away, Spock's vitals would plummet again. "Let's see if Kirk knows anything." He glanced at Christine. She pouted and reluctantly left Spock's side and tapped the button.

When the elevator doors swished open Kirk furled inside himself. The crew stared at him. Kirk cleared his throat tentatively, and suppressed a yelp as it felt like razors dragged themselves inside his esophagus.

"I'll take over from here, Mr. Chekov," he rasped.

Chekov swiveled out of the chair, and held it's back while Kirk lowered himself into it. They met eyes, and when Chekov's eyes wandered to Kirk's neck, Kirk shot him a warning look. Chekov stumbled and found his way back to his station and began busying himself with random papers on his switchboard.

"Status report?"

"Captain, we are a little less than seven days away from the Star Base. We are on course, and only a few days behind schedule," said Sulu with his normal hint of enthusiasm.

Kirk constricted his arm rest, and tried to relax into his chair, but found he couldn't. Suddenly, a voice rang out on the bridge, and Kirk nearly leapt from his seat to answer it.

"Bridge," mumbled the distinct, but very distracted voice of Nurse Chapel. She had not taken her eyes off the Vulcan who shifted slightly in his uneasy sleep, his head lolling side to side.

"Bridge, Kirk here," said Kirk slightly confused.

Chapel? Why wasn't Bones contacting him? Maybe Spock was critical and McCoy's hands were full? He knew Spock wasn't dead. If he was, Bones would have called him down to sick bay. He shuddered. He couldn't picture his first officer lying cold and dead. He was burning up, a personal space heater an hour ago. The only force strong enough to bring Spock down was a hypo, or a phaser set to kill. It took a lot to knock the Vulcan off his feet. Kirk couldn't imagine that a little virus would do him in. He hoped that's all it was, but he knew deep down it was something bigger than that.

"Jim, was Spock injured on any of the trips you took recently?" asked Chapel.

"No-but," started Kirk.

"No flesh wounds he might have sustained while aboard the ship?" chimed McCoy.

Kirk visibly sank in his chair, dizzy with relief to hear Bones' voice, calm and even.

"None to my knowledge-but," said Kirk.

"Nurse what did the lab results say," continued McCoy. Kirk leaned closer to the speaker. Bones was leaving Kirk hanging.

"Bones! Howishe?" blabbered Kirk.

"What Jim?" asked McCoy patiently.

"Is…Spock…okay?" repeated Kirk.

"He is stable for now."

"What is it?" asked Kirk. He needed to know what could possibly have overtaken the Vulcan.

"Not sure, Jim," said McCoy absentmindedly. He heard Chapel conversing with Bones in hushed tones. Sensing the captain's distress he continued, "but, I'll keep you-" McCoy was cut off by a shrill shriek.

"What?" asked a panicked Kirk. He shifted in his seat, leaning down towards the receiver, his fingers hovering over the button to summon security.

"Oh my god," breathed McCoy.

"What? What?" yelled Kirk. The other personnel had turned to look at their captain, who was looking desperately at the receiver.

"I'm sorry, Jim, I've got to handle this. I'll update you as soon as I can."

The line clicked, and Kirk's panting echoed on the bridge. For a few minutes everyone just sat at their station, too dazed to continue working. It was liked they were all wishing to be woken up from this nightmare. They blinked and looked at Spock's empty chair sadly. It was only when the Enterprise started to veer off course that Kirk spoke.

"Maintain course for Star Base 1851, Mr. Sulu."

"Aye, sir," replied Sulu, his usual springy tone having been replaced for a distracted, and solemn one.

Back in Sickbay, Spock was bleeding from his eyes. Nurse Chapel was shaking, and refused to look. A normal doctor would be puzzled, even intrigued by the green substance seeping out of the corner of Mr. Spock's eyes. But Nurse Chapel knew a Vulcans blood was green. Therefore, she was horrified by the grotesque image before her. McCoy on the other hand was ecstatic. This symptom he could work with. He nonchalantly dabbed the green blood out of the corners of the Vulcan's eyes, and squirted saline into them. More blood continued to trickle and pool near the bridge of Spock's nose, but McCoy payed it no mind. He whistled a jazz tune to himself while he worked and forgot himself for a moment. He quickly administered a hypo and went to sit with Christine. Curls of blonde hair had come undone, and her bun was straggly and tangled. Her eyes were red rimmed, and wide. McCoy slipped a comforting arm around her shoulders and she leaned into his chest. She hiccupped and sniffled loudly, but McCoy just patted her head with one hand, and rubbed soothing circles on her back with the other. Eventually she fell silent. McCoy let the silence hang in the air for a few moments, reveling in the calm, and relief. At last they had a diagnosis! Not an easy one, but answers at last!

"You know what this means, don't you?" McCoy asked.

Christine straightened up, and began dabbing at her eyes.

"I…I..should go check on him."

"You will stay right here nurse," said McCoy with finality. He rose and shuffled towards Spock's biobed.

McCoy dabbed at a fresh trickle of blood from Spock's eyes and sighed. He crumbled the used gauze in his gloved hand and threw it away quickly before Nurse Chapel started sniffling again. McCoy rifled through a glass medicine cabinet and found a hypo with some orange liquid sloshing around inside. He administered it to Spock and went to sit with Christine again.

"Andorian Shingles, doctor?"

"Yes, nurse."

"When will he wake?"

"Why am I so itchy?" came a raspy voice.


End file.
